


Avec Beaucoup de Couleurs

by meat



Series: meat's body mod drabbles [4]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Body Modification, Body Paint, Body Worship, Drabble, M/M, Messy, Mild Kink, No Sex, Paint Kink, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-01
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-10-10 10:12:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17423927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meat/pseuds/meat
Summary: A reimagining of Drift giving Rodimus his new paint job.





	Avec Beaucoup de Couleurs

**Author's Note:**

> I'm trying to get back into the swing of things after being sick again. Hope this is good.

“I know what that look means.”

Rodimus headbutted Drift gently as he reached his lover’s side, before the hopefully-soon-to-again-be-captain began to slink onto Drift’s thighs like a particularly affectionate lap dog. Little moments like this had grown rare, and so they had learned to squeeze as much enjoyment out of them as they possibly could. Drift met Rodimus’s waiting mouth with his warm, eager tongue, then began to cup Rodimus’s face with one hand. The other hand was preoccupied with a paintbrush, dripping its oily coating down Drift’s front much like the drool that trailed back from his mouth as he broke off the kiss.

_ Messy _ . That’s what these meetings always were. Socially, politically, physically, they were one big filthy fiasco, of spit or blood or sweat or tears or all of those and more.

“Tell me what it means, then,” Drift couldn’t hide his breathlessness as Rodimus plunged them both back into a kiss; Drift’s free hand pushed him back for a moment so that he could continue to speak, “If you’re so sure.”

Another headbutt, and this time, they shared a heartfelt smile rather than a messy makeout. Rodimus’s crystal blue eyes looked into Drift’s like they had been away from each other for years- well, they  _ had _ , but the look that he gave Drift was one the he might have given him if the circumstances weren’t so awful. It didn’t fit what had really happened, but neither of them cared; these little moments together existed in a space removed from time itself, their own effervescent isolation from the world that they had made for themselves.

‘It means that you know I’m sorry’, was what he wanted to say. Rodimus mashed his lips back against Drift’s when he found the thought beginning to grow hard to repress, and if Rodimus knew anything about Drift, then Drift definitely knew why Rodimus was kissing him so fiercely in that moment. It was hard to hide things from a man who could read a room the moment that he had walked into it (sure, it was only with about 60% accuracy, but that was better than Rodimus could do), and so, sometimes, Rodimus found it hard to even try.

“I had something funny to say, but...well, you’re so damn gorgeous that I forgot.”

The lovers nuzzled noses as Rodimus pulled back. They were overwhelmed with affection, feeling not wholly unlike school children experiencing their first crush. Drift was the one to give Rodimus the ‘I can’t even believe you’re real’ look, this time, and Rodimus actually  _ giggled _ at it. He blushed, too, but Rodimus was kind enough not to comment on it.

“You’re perfect, but- you know-” Rodimus stumbled through the words, but Drift wouldn’t let him hold his tongue just for his sake. Not then, of all times. After all, these little moments weren’t reserved for romance, and some of their worst knock down, drag out fights- verbal or otherwise- had happened in this shared space.

“Say it.”

Rodimus swallowed an imagined lump in his throat. His own blush began to form on his cheeks, and he broke eye contact with Drift for a sparing second.

“I want to be gorgeous like you, Drift.”

“How?”

Rodimus turned his head back, making eye contact again. Drift’s response had come out immediately, and in the form of a word so breathless, so choked, that it might as well have been a dying man’s call for help. The tension between them had reached such a point that it felt fitting, really, and so Rodimus was again polite enough not to mention it. He wondered when he would stop pretending that he was being ‘polite’ by not pointing out the obvious, rather admitting to himself that he was only not pointing them out so as not to feel conscious of his own anxious habits, but he knew that that moment wouldn’t come anytime soon.

The paintbrush in Drift’s hand was tapped lightly, before nimble fingers traced up and down its length. Drift exhaled, hard- the display was getting to him. Rodimus purred as he made a show of working the brush, and Drift lifted it just barely to Rodimus’s chest before he dared to press down.

“This is permanent, Roddy.”

Eye contact was established yet again, though there was no hint of romance this time around. There was only finality in Rodimus’s eyes as he spoke his next words to Drift:

“I know.”


End file.
